Tea With Uncle Sev
by Snaper2
Summary: After an unfortunate chain of events, Harry Potter must spend the rest of his summer at Hogwarts with absolutely no company except for kooky Dumbledore, a bunch of hyperactive house-elves, and worst of all, Severus Snape. Will they all learn to get along?
1. Chapter 1

**A/n: **_This is the first fan fic I've written since my sister (here known as "LizR") died. As we grew up we would always write fics and read them to each other. I wish we could still do that. It feels so strange to write this and know that I can't show it to her.  
_

_Elizabeth, I miss you so much._

_--  
_

Chapter One: Summer Fun? Not So Much.

The summer was hot, but the castle was hotter. Last week's conversation with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon was the only thing Harry Potter could seem to concentrate on in the heat.

Well, who knows if it could've even been considered a conversation, really. Screaming at the top of one's lungs is rarely exhibited over a cup of tea.

Let's just keep it at this: Hedwig. Escape from cage. Alighting upon Dudley's face in the night. Mistaking it for a toilet. Harry shuddered. Even for Dudley, Hedwig-pooh-in-the-face was a dark punishment.

After much thwapping and insults about Harry's poor breeding ("Those good-for-nothing parents of yours! No wonder you're such a bum!"), his Aunt and Uncle had swiftly kicked Harry out of the house, and Dumbledore (who creepily seemed to know everything that happened to Harry, it was now seeming) had appeared and told him to simply come to school early this year. It was almost August already, after all.

But Harry had never realized just how dull Hogwarts could be until he had spent a week there with no company beyond kooky Dumbledore, the house-elves, and Harry's least favorite of all, Professor Severus Snape. All the rest of the faculty had homes and families to return to during the summer. Even Hagrid, the misunderstood Hogwarts gamekeeper, was currently in France visiting Olympe Maxime at Beauxbatons. But no. Not Snape. Snape had no family to come home to, no babe to visit. He was to be lurking about the Hogwarts castle all summer, and knowing this killed Harry in a slow, painful, and metaphorical kind of way.

"I just wish I had someone _normal_ to talk to!" Harry cried out as he stared out the boys' dorm window. Hedwig glared at him, insulted. "Talking to owls is not normal," he told her indignantly. She proceeded to bite his finger viciously and flew out the window. "Wench of a bird," Harry grumbled under his breath. He then flopped down upon his four-poster and picked up the letter he had received from Ron Weasley, his best friend, just that morning. He had expected hearing from a friend would cheer him up. He was quite wrong.

_Dear Harold,_

_Ha ha ha, just kidding mate; I know your name's Harry. Hermione and I are having an absolutely brilliant time at the Burrow. Oh, did I tell you Hermione came to visit? Since you can't come over (obviously) we're thinking of inviting Neville over instead to get the real fun started! He is quite the party animal, if you'd believe it. Gets it from that wild gran of his, I suspect. Only joking! Or am I??? Ohhh!_

_Anyway, the castle during summer sounds almost as bad as the Dursley's, if you ask me. You can't even do magic there, cause school's not in session! Also, Dumbledore may be wise and whatever, but he is kind of off his rocker. That's an understatement as well. And Snape! Ha! Sorry, mate, but I really can't help but laugh. That would be your luck, wouldn't it? Who knows, maybe by the time school begins, you and old Sev'll be best buddies!_

_Well I have to go now. Hermione just threw a gnome at my head, which means that our new sport of Extreme Gnome Tossing has officially begun. It's a hell of sport; I bet you'd love it. But you're not here, so oh well! _

_Have fun at Hogwarts (even though I know you won't…),_

_Ron_

_P.S. Hermione says "Hi."_

"Aaaarrrgh!" Harry screeched in frustration, and tore the letter in two. "I hate summer!"

"Dost mine ears deceive me?" came the voice of Dumbledore. The old wizard stepped out mysteriously from behind an embroidered curtain. "Did you just say that you hate summer?"

Harry was lost for words. "P-p-p-professor! What were you doing being that curtain?! In my dorm!"

Dumbledore shrugged. "Brushing my teeth."

"No you weren't."

"Have you any proof of that?"

Harry was silent.

Dumbledore smiled. "When rabbits and cows frolic together through the meadow of anarchy, the destiny of the world is naught but a plank of wood," he said wisely.

"Er…excuse me sir?"

"It's an old wizard proverb," Dumbledore explained, seating himself next to Harry and clapping the boy on his back. "It means something to the effect of, 'Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies.'"

Harry nodded, even though he was completely confused.

"You shouldn't dislike summer, dear Harry," Dumbledore sighed, gazing at Harry from over his half-moon spectacles. "It is full of opportunities." He then looked down to his spindly wrist where he wore a very strange-looking watch. "Oh, my! Look at the time!" Harry tried to do as he was told, but it was difficult as he had no idea how to read the watch. Dumbledore clapped his hand to his forehead in exasperation. "I must leave you now; it's time for me to comb my beard." And with that, he stood up and briskly exited the room.

It wasn't until Harry was sure that Dumbledore was out of hearing distance that he picked up the nearest pillow and screamed into it. "That's it!" he moaned. "I must escape from this place!"

***

Meals were definitely the worst part of Harry's entire situation. Dumbledore said that he preferred a "homier" feel to eating when there were so few people in the castle, so they ate all their meals together with the house-elves at a small table in the kitchens.

"This is Dobby's favorite meal, sir, yes it is!" said Dobby the house-elf, as he trekked along the table, serving everybody salad. "Would Mr. Snape like some salad?" he asked nervously when he came to Snape.

"That salad is made with iceberg lettuce," Snape said lethally. He peered out from under his greasy locks at the house-elf. "I. Prefer. Romaine."

"Does Mr. Snape mean…yes, then? Or no?"

"No! Fool!"

Dobby scuttled away.

Harry rolled his eyes and took a chomp of his own serving of salad. That was Snape for you: an everyday drama queen. Nothing was ever right to him.

Once everybody had been served the main course, roast beef and potatoes, Dumbledore decided to make conversation. "Ah, don't we all just feel like a family, eating here together? See, I'd be the daddy, Harry would be the angsty teen, you all" --he pointed to the numerous house-elves—"would be the children, and well, I suppose that leaves you as the mummy, Severus!" Dumbledore slapped his knee in amusement. Everyone shared a hearty laugh except for Snape, who looked pained.

"What good taste you have, sir," he sneered.

"Oh, come on, Sev! It was just a joke!" Dumbledore said. He wagged his fork at Snape as though in reprimanding. "You need to cheer yourself up, you great lump." He shifted in his seat and straightened his wizard cap. "Why, that reminds me of someone else, earlier today." His blue eyes twinkled toward Harry. "You two could _both_ use a bit of cheer. And that gives me a great idea! Sev, my man, you shall make Harry your apprentice this summer! Won't that be fun? You two will surely have the time of your lives! You'll have some real bonding time!"

The whole table sat in horrified silence. Even the house-elves seemed to understand how much of a death-sentence this was for both Harry and Snape. Dumbledore continued to bounce about his chair, bubbly with excitement. "Yes, this _will_ be fun!" He raised his pumpkin juice as though to give Harry and Snape his blessing, and took a great swig.

Harry dared to glance at Snape. Dear old Sev looked positively livid.

August was sure to be a long month.

**A/n: **_Be sure to anticipate some Marauder flashbacks in future chapters! =D_


	2. Chapter Two: Is Nothing Sacred!

Chapter Two: Is Nothing Sacred??!

The dungeons were cold, but the look in Snape's eye was colder.

_Tap, tap, tap_, tapped some leaky faucet off in the distance. Harry stared around the dungeons. It was extremely awkward. Last night's events at dinner still seemed surreal to everyone in the castle, and furthermore Harry couldn't even begin to fathom how Dumbledore's crazy suggestion had ended up coming to life. At this moment, Harry Potter and Severus Snape, enemies for life, were alone together in the dungeons. No innuendo intended.

Neither of them spoke. Harry sat in a spare desk and Snape at his own teacher's desk, and the two of them sat in awkward silence. Harry tried his best not to look at Snape, who was giving the most poisonous death-glare Harry had probably ever received in his entire life. And Harry had truly received a plethora of death-glares in his time. Since Dumbledore had woken Harry up and sent him down to the dungeons at 7 o'clock this morning, no words had been exchanged. Not even the simplest "Hello."

So much for being an apprentice.

Harry had decided to while away his time thinking of things he'd prefer to do rather than sit in a classroom awkwardly with Snape. He checked them off like a list inside his head:

_Battle a hungry basilisk._

_Feed Voldemort chocolate-covered strawberries._

_Feed Dumbledore chocolate-covered strawberries._

_Die._

_Wash Hagrid's feet._

_Go on a date with a blast-ended skrewt._

_Do a racy tap-dance on Rita Skeeter's front lawn and let her write a column about it._

As time dwindled on, these acts of horror grew more desperate:

_…46. Shove a game of Exploding Snap up my bum._

_47. Eat Draco Malfoy's hair gel._

_…103. Confess undying love to Gregory Goyle._

Suddenly, Harry heard a snigger from the front of the classroom. Snape was sitting at his desk, covering his mouth as though to keep from bursting out in laughter.

"Yes, sir? Is there something the matter?" Harry asked savagely.

"Not at all, Potter," Snape smirked. "It's just that you _do _have the wildest imagination."

"What?!" Harry's heart pounded sickeningly. Had Snape been listening in on his thoughts?!

"Oh, you were never any good at Occlumency, boy!" Snape spat. "It's so easy to eavesdrop on your mind."

"B-but! That's not fair! That's breaking and entering!"

"Oh really?" Snape sat back in his chair and raised his eyebrows. "Have you invaded my dungeons to whine, boy, or to learn a thing or two?" The glare from before returned to his face.

Harry resisted the urge to reply with _'Actually, I'm here because my psychopathic headmaster woke me up at an ungodly hour this morning and forced me down the staircase,' _and instead said, "To…to learn, sir." He returned Snape's glare as though to challenge his manliness.

"Good. Well then I suppose you may commence your education by cleaning the classroom. There's much to be learnt in the art of sanitation." He leaned further back in his chair and began to lazily peruse the morning's _Daily Prophet_.

"Clean?!" Harry gasped.

"Yes. New word for you?" Snape sneered over the paper. "Typical Gryffindor; afraid to get your hands dirty. Hmph!"

"I'm not afraid!" Harry couldn't help but retort.

"Good," replied Snape. "The cleaning supplies are over there, in the closet."

Harry couldn't help but be reminded of Aunt Petunia as Snape the Slave-Driver bossed him about. Harry was forced to label endless vials of questionable substances first: lacewings, flobberworm mucous, beetle eyes, nettles, a rather large amount porcupine urine, and a number of other things that I am too kind to tell you about. Next he had to wash out a cauldron that Snape had been using just the other day to stir an extremely slimy potion, the main ingredient of which was frog genitals. Snape was sure to remind Harry to scrub extra hard.

After two hours, the dungeons were looking just as dark, dingy, and unpleasant as ever, but maybe a tad more organized.

"Well, boy," Snape sneered. "I am expecting the new issue of Greasy Hair Monthly to arrive by owl any moment now. I prefer to read it in privacy. You are dismissed."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He bounded for the exit as quickly as possible.

"Oh, and Potter," called Snape before Harry could get too far. "Tomorrow, be sure to bring your dragon-hide gloves. You will be cleaning out a cauldron that still contains a bit of The Torturous Flesh-Eating Potion of Painful Death…you wouldn't want to get charred." He smirked at Harry's nervous expression.

***

I think everyone can understand that by this point that Harry was quite distressed. The prospects were not looking good: Snape hated him just as much as ever, Ron and Hermione's letter-condolences weren't very uplifting, Dumbledore popped out of nowhere at inconvenient moments (earlier that week he had sprung out at Harry from behind a cubicle door in the bathroom), and from the Gryffindor tower windows to the rocky ground below was a very long drop indeed.

"There must be _some_ way to escape," Harry muttered to himself for about the millionth time that evening, pacing his dorm room. Hedwig rolled her owlish eyes from where she was perched at the windowsill. "I'm quite convinced that Dumbledore never sleeps…ever…so there's a good chance that if I try to escape through the front doors at night he'll jump out from a suit of armor or something and foil my plot…."

During Harry's earlier, more naïve days at Hogwarts, he had always pleasantly wondered what went on at school during summer. Now that he knew…oh. All he could think of was the civilization that he missed so dearly. Maybe he'd hug Uncle Vernon the next time he saw him. After envisioning the mental image, however, Harry quickly decided against that idea.

"WWVD?" Harry asked himself in desperation. WWVD was an acronym he'd come up with long ago in order to solve all problems that deserved evil solutions. It stood for 'What Would Voldemort Do?' Harry pondered this. "He'd probably put Dumbledore and Snape in a giant cage together and use the Imperious curse to make them duke it out. Meanwhile he'd fry all the house-elves, put them on buns, and sell them to the audience as refreshments. But who am I kidding?!" Harry sighed. "I could never do that; I dunno how to cook! Plus I'm not allowed to do magic over the summer, so I'd get in trouble for conjuring the giant cage."

Hedwig cooed as though to add, "And the Imperious curse!"

"Oh, for Daniel Radcliffe's sake, shut your beak!" Harry spat in reply. He was not in the mood for a smart-alec bird.

***

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? Ron and I miss you very much, but I must say that we're having the most wonderful time here at the Burrow! Well, except that the ghoul in the attic has started to stalk me somewhat. Ron says that must mean the ghoul fancies me. I wish I knew whether the ghoul was a male or female, because frankly I don't know whether or not I should be flattered!_

_Anyway, you're SO lucky to be Snape's apprentice now! I mean, I know that he's a simply dreadful man, but he _is _wonderful at potions, so he can teach you loads. I bet you'll be so far ahead of me by the time the school year starts! Maybe I should buy some extra textbooks at Flourish & Blotts to do some supplementary studying? Final exams _are _only nine months away, after all._

_Oh well. Just promise me one thing, Harry: don't take this opportunity for granted! Learn everything you can from Snape, even if you hate him. Also, visit the library and see if you can read up on potions! Maybe you can teach me what you learn when we see each other again!_

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

"Easy for you to say, Hermione; you're not the one cooped up in this abyss of doom all the time!" Harry said sourly as he finished reading her letter over his breakfast the next day. Why would Harry want to learn more about potions, anyway? All he wanted to learn was escape technique! Maybe they had books on that in the library? Well, it wouldn't hurt to look, and it wasn't as though Harry had anything else better to do. Once he had finished chewing his bacon, he promptly sped off to the library to see what he could find.

Unfortunately, the library was closed.

"What kind of place is this?" Harry wailed, falling to his knees in front of the locked doors. "A kid can't even check out a book when he wants!"

"Book-reading children who don't shine their shoes are terrible, smelly, and rather bad news," Dumbledore rhymed, seemingly appearing out of the clear blue.

Harry didn't even look up; he was used to this spontaneity by now. "Let me guess. Old wizard proverb?"

"Wizard psalm, actually," Dumbledore replied. "Written by Merlin himself. Wise man, he was. Terrible at climbing the rope in gym class, however. He could never make it to the top." The old coot began to stroll away then, humming, but Harry shot up and caught him by the shoulder.

"Um, professor. I know the library's closed right now, but would you mind if I went in there for a while?"

"Maaayyybe," returned Dumbledore slyly. "Why?"

"I wanted…a book."

"What book?"

"A book about, uh, books."

"And the title?"

"I dunno; it's just a book, okay?!" Harry was getting frustrated. "Can I go look for it or not?!!"

Dumbeldore heaved a sigh and took out a ring of keys from his robes. "I suppose so; but don't stay in there for too long, alright? I would hate to miss you at dinner! Dobby's making pot roast tonight, yummy!" He opened the door and beckoned Harry in. "I hope you find your book about books!" With that, he left Harry alone amidst the towering bookshelves.

"Oh, don't worry," Harry said under his breath. He rubbed his hands together in glee. "I'll find it!"


	3. Chapter 3: Library Adventures

_a/n: Wow, this chapter took ages, I know. My laptop got taken away from me...long story. :( _

Chapter 3: Library Adventures

Harry was in the midst of reading an incredibly gripping fourth chapter of _Charmed Up Muscles: The True Story of a Quidditch Professional on Steroids _when the large grand father clock in one corner of the library announced that it was now six o'clock.

"Oh, for the love of Norbert!" Harry swore colorfully. "When did it get so late?" He swiftly stowed the book back on its shelf and continued to search the library for his 'book about books.' In truth, what he really wanted was a book that could instruct him on how to escape from a castle full of watchful loons, but he had grown quite disheartened after passing 30 whole rows of shelves and not finding the remotest bit of help. Those 30 shelves didn't even begin to cover the library however; it was absolutely huge. In the poor lighting, Harry couldn't even manage to see the ceiling.

Dinner would be starting any minute now, Harry reminded himself, and Dumbledore would be expecting him. Oh yeah, and Dobby would be serving pot roast. Harry sighed.

"I guess I'll never escape from this place," he whispered in despair. "It's gonna be a looong summer." He made to exit the library. It was a big room, but having been there so many times with Hermione, he easily knew by now that the way to get out from where he stood was to walk down the Sports section, take a right on Magical Plants, walk down the entire aisle dedicated to dragon dung, then—

Harry stopped abruptly, and with a sickening sensation in his stomach, he realized that he had no idea where he was. Maybe he hadn't started out in the Sports section, maybe it had been Maladies…. He turned around and raced back down the dragon dung corridor. Looking up and down each aisle, he was extremely panicked to observe that all he could see for meters and meters was a seemingly endless abyss of bookshelves. After ten minutes of racing about the rows, he had to admit that he was lost.

"Oh, great, way to fail in the library…Hermione would be so disappointed in me," he sighed, longingly thinking of his friend and the clever "point me!" spell she had once taught him. Wouldn't that be useful now? Too bad he didn't have his wand.

Just when he was about to scream at the top of his lungs in pure frustration, a large volume caught Harry's eyes that made him stop. It was extremely old and worn, with faded gild along the spine and ruffled-looking pages. It caught his eye not only due to its sheer size, but also because it was almost coming off the shelf, as though someone had just hastily stuffed it in there without pushing it the whole way, and, in addition, from its pages oozed a slimy, greenish substance that sickeningly reminded Harry of something Hagrid had once cooked him as a gift, claiming it to be "a spot o' me average breakfast." Harry shuddered at the memory. Hagrid had never been talented in the kitchen.

For some reason, seeing the book filled Harry with a sense of foreboding. It looked like the kind of book you'd only see on the shelves of the restricted section. Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry gingerly reached his hand out and pulled the slimy book from its place. It was heavy, but Harry managed to cradle it in his arms and read the title, which was also faded gild: _Advanced Potion Trouble-Making_.

"Hmmm," Harry hmmed to himself. "That title sounds oddly familiar…but different." Ignoring this, he promptly opened the book and peered down to its worn pages. The goop was splashed all about the inside, and gave the book the appearance as though it were bleeding from the spine.

Harry chuckled darkly at the first potion he came across.

_Clumsiness Draught:_

_The drinker of this potion will suffer from extreme clumsiness. Symptoms include tripping over robes, feet, or various other objects, dropping things, loss of deftness, stuttering speech, among other things. Symptoms last generally two hours per cup. Do not drink this potion whilst operating machinery or other silly muggle devices. If erection lasts more than four hours, consult a doctor._

"Wicked," Harry grinned, picturing in his mind a clumsy Snape tripping over his own billowing black robes, blinded by greasy hair covering his eyes, messing up his own potions due to clumsiness….

"Maybe this can be my very own book about books," Harry said to himself, comfortably wedging the book under his arm and continuing to wander about the library, searching for the exit.

Certainly Dumbledore would be worried by now; maybe he'd come looking? Harry envisioned Dumbledore leaping out at him from behind a bookshelf, shouting old wizard proverbs, and shuddered. No, on second thought, maybe he _didn't_ want Dumbledore to come and find him….

As Harry pondered all this, he started to lose track of where exactly he was walking. He had just reached the Astronomy section when he tripped over something rather large. The sound of toppling books crashed about.

"Oh dear, Bonker is hurt, ouch," said a squeaky, scratchy voice that sounded as though it hadn't uttered a word for decades.

"Oh! Sorry!" Harry cried, jumping away and helping the strange figure up. On further examination, he was unpleasantly surprised to see a peaky-looking house-elf staring back at him. It wore glasses that looked like they were made from a wire bubble-blowing stick and an almost immaculately spotless pillowcase. Its large amber eyes blinked at him from behind the odd spectacles for a moment, and then gave a start and began gathering the books that it had seemingly dropped when Harry had collided with it.

"Who are you? What are you doing in the library?" Harry asked.

"Does the master speak to a book? Bonker doubts he is speaking to her…"

"I'm not speaking to a book! I'm speaking to you! Shouldn't you be eating dinner with the rest of the house-elves?"

"B-bonker? The master speaks to Bonker? Interesting, very interesting…" The house-elf took out a sheet of parchment from her book pile and, as though copying down a scientific observation, began intently scibbling upon it: not words, but actual scribbles.

"What kind of language is _that?_" Harry inquired, nosily looking upon the parchment.

"Oh…" the house-elf blushed and hid it from view. "'Tis no real language, sir…Bonker simply feels intellectual when she writes upon the paper… She feels like a real thinker…."

"I see, uh, Bonker," replied Harry, taken aback. He had never met a house-elf with similar aspirations. "How about you help me find my way out of this library? Then we can go to dinner together. We're late enough as it is!"

"D-dinner!" Bonker gasped. "No good, no, no…. Everyone has forgotten strange Bonker. She never comes down to dinner anymore. All she needs are books to feed her mind."

_A house-elf after Hermione's own heart,_ Harry thought, amused, before saying, "Well, then can you at least guide me out of here? I'm sort of lost."

"Yes, sir." Bonker began to walk fluidly along the shelves, turning here and there, going so swiftly that Harry could barely keep up with her despite his advantage in height. After about five minutes, Harry found himself at the main entrance to the library, to his great relief. He ran to the door eagerly.

"Hey, thanks Bonker!" Harry said. He turned around to give the elf one last smile of gratitude…but she was no where to be seen. Harry shrugged. "Creepy little thing," he muttered, and headed off towards the kitchens.

**

"Harry! Where have you been? I'm sorry boy, but I was just so hungry that I had to start the pot roast without you," Dumbledore confessed, looking at Harry unashamedly overtop his spectacles. "When a wizard is hungry, he is _hungry_. That one I got from my great uncle Tybalt." He then looked fondly over at the house-elves. "Plus, Dobby here is a marvelous cook."

"Oh, sir!" Dobby went red and covered his face with a delicate hand.

"Uh, yes, well my research was just so interesting, I got a bit carried away," Harry explained.

"Indeed. What was it you were looking up again?" inquired Dumbledore idley, buttering himself a dinner roll.

"Er…uh…unicorn, um, hooves."

Snape smirked wickedly from across the table. "A likely story," he said knowingly. Harry wasn't bothered too much by this snipe however, as Snape had a just taken a sip of milk and left behind a highly unbecoming milk mustache.

"So, Dobby," said Harry. "Do you know a house-elf named Bonker?"

Dobby thought for a moment. "Well, there's a _blender_ in the kitchen…."

"That's not exactly what I had in mind," Harry replied exasperatedly. "Forget I asked."

"You are a strange boy indeed, Harry," deemed Dumbledore with a wink. "Garden gnomes and spatulas must get along together after all…"

No one even bothered to ask what he meant by this.


End file.
